The Big Day
I did it. I run the half marathon and it felt amazing.
If someone had told me last year that I’d do something like that, I would have not believed them. I was too scared back then. And I wish I could say I was only scared of running such a big distance, but that would be a lie. The truth is that I was scared of life, in general. Scared of people. Scared of everything.
The Big Ben shaped medal is hanging from my neck. I take it with my right hand. I start playing with it, turning it around, still incredulous. I can’t believe I did it and it felt so right. So natural. As if I wasn’t trapped in my cocoon until few months ago.
‘I know it may sound a bit controversial,’ I say, ‘but I think all of this happened thanks to my miserable health. Both psychological and physical. If I didn’t experience the fear of death, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate life and stop being scared of silly things. Stop wasting time. Stop being worried.’
Johnny looks at me. I can tell by his facial expression that he’s studying my words.
We are wating for our food. The wine is already on the table.
‘Cheers,’ I say.
I take my first sip. I deserve it. After all this effort. I am not talking about the half marathon per se. I am thinking more about what’s behind the scenes. About months and months of therapy. That’s the real effort. That’s what helped me turn my fear into fuel.
‘I think you should thank your willpower. You wanted to change, and you did your best to do so,’ Johnny says.
‘Yes, but only because I was miserable. I had no other option,’ I reply.
‘See, that’s where you’re wrong. You had the option to ignore those feelings. To keep your life as it was. To expect the change to come from the outside. But you didn’t. You knew you had to work on yourself, and you did it. Loads of people don’t get bothered. They keep crying without even trying to change what’s wrong.’
While Johnny talks, I take another sip of wine.
‘Thanks amore,’ I say.
I tend to underestimate myself and my work. I need a reminder every now and then. Thanks Universe I have Johnny. He was so patient while I was getting better. At least psychologically. Physically I yet don’t know. It’s been two years since they told me that’s something wrong with me, but they can’t find the cause. I was so scared at first. And I still am. But my approach towards it has completely changed. Maybe because I got used to it. Or maybe because my inner self has become stronger. I can handle things now.
Johnny kisses me, then raises his glass of wine and asks me to do the same. I obey.
‘You’ve been amazing,’ he goes. ‘Look how far you’ve come. Today you proved yourself that you can do everything you want to do, despite the adversities.’
Our glasses touch. The sound is overcome by the background music.
‘To you,’ Johnny says.
‘To me,’ I say.
I still can’t believe it. I did it for real.
I participated to an event along with other 17176 people. I exposed myself, uncaring of a possible failure. Not long ago, if I had forced myself into doing something like that, I would have been anxious and stressed. I would have been a monster towards the people I love, just to release that tension. Not this time, though. This time is different. I slept through the whole night yesterday. I didn’t rush, nor felt nervous this morning. I just had breakfast, got ready and went.
I love this version of myself.
I am so happy, so proud, I can’t stop smiling.
‘Your burgers are ready guys,’ the waiter says. ‘Vegan?’
I raise my hand. ‘Thant’s me.’
The waiter places the plate on my side of the table then does the same thing with Johnny’s regular burger.
When the waiter leaves, we dive into our food. I am so hungry. That’s normal after running thirteen miles, I guess.
I’m thinking, I have to run towards my goals just as I run all those miles. I can’t let my dreams slip away as if they were nothing. I can’t be worried of what people might think of me for trying to make them come true. First of all, because people probably don’t care about what I do and second of all, because even if they do, it’s not my problem. I used to think people would laugh at me, think that I was a fool for believing I could become a published author. Now I got to a point that even if that’s what they believe, I don’t mind. Who cares of other people? I have enough of closing myself behind boundaries that no longer serve me, especially if they were set by my silly fears.
‘I have so many things to do now,’ I say to Johnny, still chewing a bite of my burger. I know you’re not supposed to talk while eating. It’s unpolite. But I can’t wait. I am too excited. ‘I have an entire manuscript to rewrite,’ I continue, ‘and a marathon to prepare. These are my new goals.’
‘You’re on fire lately,’ Johnny says.
We both laugh.
© Brooxy Moon